Tell me you love me (& that it's all gonna be alright)
by Glitterberryy
Summary: *THREE PARTER* Prompted: Write about something that can be a complete game changer; terminal illness, poisoning, moving away, falling in love. AND it's Christmas. BROMANCE.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! Another prompted story! It's going to be a three parter I think! Aim to update daily. **

**Please read and review - I find it hard to reply to them all, but I promise I do read them all!**

**GB xox**

* * *

**Tell me you love me (& that it's all gonna be alright)**

**1**

The Palace is unusually quiet, most of the staff having already headed home to spend the Festive period with their families. Office's are empty; computers powered down and lights switched off, paperwork filed away and waste paper baskets emptied. Danny walks past many of the empty rooms, heads for one he knows is still occupied. He taps his knuckles softly on the glass door, just loud enough for Steve to hear him, before folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the door frame.

"Shouldn't you be heading home by now?" Steve asks as he yanks open a desk drawer, shoves a stack of papers inside. Looks up at the blonde detective; doesn't miss the red rimmed eyes, the dry and flaky nose, and pale, clammy skin.

"It will still be there when we get back, you know." Danny nods to the papers as Steve slams the drawer shut. "It thought we could go and grab a beer." Sounds full of cold.

"Out of sight, out of mind." Steve smiles, flicks his eyebrows up mischievously, and Danny shakes his (fuzzy) head lightly, tries to bite back his own smile, because even after all these years, Steve's aversion to paperwork still amuses him slightly. "Aren't you picking Grace up?"

"It was just a thought." Danny shrugs casually as one arm uncrosses to rub at his already sore nose. "Grace decided to stay home for Christmas. She didn't want to get sick." Tries, and fails, to sound nonchalant. Both arms fall to his side before he pushes them deep into his pants pockets and shifts on his feet.

"Okay, sure." Steve nods, because he knows how hard being alone over the holidays can be.

"Great." Danny beams, pulls a hand free and gestures at the immaculate office. "Are you ready to go now, or do you have some more paperwork that you need to hide away until the New Year?"

"I'm ready." Steve nods as he pushes himself up to stand, flicks off the desk lamp. "Can we stop by the Post Office first, though? I need to send Mary a card."

"Woah, you're leaving it a little late, aren't you?" Danny scoffs, rolling his shoulders as two hands worm free from his pockets and start to wave swiftly in the air as he continues. "You know most people send them at the beginning of December, just to make sure they get there in time, right? Are you even aware of how the American postal system works – or any postal system world wide, for that matter? Because it's not instantaneous like sending a text message or an email."

"I know." Steve nods. "She knows I always send them late. I'm just too busy, so I forget."

"I find the time to send Mom and Dad one." Danny shrugs, wraps his arms back around his chest. "_And_ I do more work than you." Steve steps back in mock offence.

"You don't do more work than me." He shakes his head.

"Sure I do. I actually do my paperwork." Eyes flick to the closed drawer and back to Steve. "And yours most of the time, too."

"That's because I do most of the _hard _work." Steve retorts, provoking one of Danny's hands to work free and swoop before him. "What is that supposed to mean?" Danny tilts his head slightly, juts his chin out defensively.

"Nothing." Steve shakes his head. "Just that I most of the..._stunts_...and you do most of the...well.._.paperwork_."

"We both know that's not true." Danny shakes his head, shoves his hand back in his pocket, straightens his back and squares his shoulders. "I do just as much of the heavy lifting as you do. Bar grenades. I even have scars to prove it."

Steve narrows his eyes as he seems to ponder that, then sighs a little as he shrugs in defeat.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yeah, Danno. You're right. Now let's go and grab that beer." Steve steps around his desk, and Danny moves aside as Steve walks past him, leaving the office.

"Woah, I'm right?! Just like that?" Danny asks for clarification, one hand flying out of his pocket and hovering in front of him, ready for action. Steve turns back to face him, amusement evident on his face.

"Yep, 'just like that'. Now are you coming, or not?"

"I don't understand you sometimes, do you know that?" Danny shakes his head, accepting the easy win for once. "First round is on you."

"I didn't bring my wallet to work today, so..."

"Yeah, yeah, why am I not surprised?" Danny snorts. "I guess I'm paying for Mary's card as well?"

"Thanks, Danno. I normally slip a fifty in there, too." Steve smiles. "I'll pay you back."

"You spend more of my money than Rachel ever did." Danny mumbles, as he pulls the wallet from his back pocket and flicks through the notes to make sure he has enough. "Gonna need to find an ATM on the way."

"I'll drive." Steve offers, taking the Camaro's keys from Danny's hand before he can object. He knows better by now though, so he nods, forces his wallet back into his pocket, and follows Steve as they head towards the large, glass entrance doors of Five-0 HQ.

They're both as surprised as each other to see the familiar, stooped man slowly heading towards them, wearing the usual khaki shirt and black shorts.

"Hey Bobby. You're working late, aren't you?" Danny greets Robert, their regular mail-man.

"Just got some last minute mail to deliver." Robert replies gruffly as he sorts through a pile of envelopes in his hands. "Just the one for you guys though." He hands a small, red envelope off to Danny, then turns on his heel and starts to shuffle towards the other mostly vacant offices. "Gotta keep moving, running late. Missus is gonna kill me. Mele Kalikimaka." The older man says as he scuffles away.

"Yeah, you too, Buddy." Steve calls after him, as Danny twirls the envelope in his fingers; it's unmarked, all except '5.0' scrawled in a gold, metallic ink, and the fold is sealed with a thick tape. "It's probably for me." Steve immediately concludes, and Danny nods, because he doesn't recognise the writing, and other than the one his parents send religiously every 15th December, he doesn't receive Christmas cards.

"Yeah, you're right." Danny agrees, hands it over. "It's probably from the Governor. Wait, does he even send cards?" Because he can't recall the team ever getting one from him before now, and the more he thinks about it, the more he can remember Steve receiving the same colour envelope with the same gold scrawl for the past few years. Curiosity peeks.

"Probably. It feels like a card." Steve nods. "I'll open it later." He shrugs as he turns around and heads back towards his office.

"Oh, c'mon, you have to open it." Danny insists, following Steve, watches as he pulls open the same drawer as earlier and shoves it inside. "It could be anything from anyone. It could be important." A finger raised mid-air to accentuate his point.

"It's not important, Danny." Steve answers confidently, steps back around the desk. "It can wait until after the Holidays – the one we are still yet to start, so come on, let's get out of here."

"Oh no Steven, you are just being rude." Danny says, rocks up onto the balls of his feet and back down again. "You must be a little curious, right?" Because Danny is.

"Nope." Steve shakes his head, because he's received one every year for the past fifteen – a card from the ex-girlfriend he'd much rather forget, with nothing but the same cell phone number, golden initials, and a smudged kiss stain.

"Oh, yes you are. You just don't want to admit it." Danny wags his finger, edges around the furniture and pulls open the drawer. "Open it." He insists, pulling the envelope out and holding it for Steve to take.

"I don't want to." Steve replies defiantly, folding his arms across his chest to stop himself from taking it, and Danny's curiosity hits a new level.

"Fine." Danny says, twirling the envelope in his hand. "Then I will." Watches the faintest hint of panic cross McGarrett's face as he pushes his pinky finger under the smallest gap in the seal. "Who's to say it's not for me anyway?"

"Danny..." Steve starts, his eye widening at the sound of paper ripping as Danny's finger edges slowly along the top crease. He takes a step closer, holds his hand out. "C'mon, we can open it later."

"Nope." Danny shakes his head, enjoys his partners discomfort too much, because he's learnt how to read McGarrett, knows when he's hiding something. "Why are you so desperate to avoid it, huh, Steven? Maybe it's from an ex-girlfriend. You know what they say about Sailor's, right? Girl at every port and all that..." Knows he's hit the nail on the head when Steve's eye's widen slightly, and he swallows hard.

"Danny..." A hint of a warning this time, as he moves forwards to grab the half opened envelope, but Danny's too quick, has it out of his reach just in time. "You're so juvenile." Steve scorns, grabbing at the envelope again, and Danny wags his eyebrows at Steve as he pulls the Christmas card free.

"And you're too defensive." Danny retorts, feels the urge to poke his tongue out, but decides against it, opts for reading the bold words on the front of the card out loud instead. "_Please Note: Christmas has been cancelled. Apparently, you told Santa you've been good this year, so he died laughing._" Danny laughs, looks up at an annoyed Steve. "They know you too well, Babe."

"Hand it over." Steve sighs, hand outstretched, but Danny is having too much fun.

"Look, it even has a picture of a snuffed Santa." Danny continues to jest, but stops laughing as Steve pounces, unexpected, and grabs one half of the card before Danny has a chance to open it.

"Hey!" Danny shouts, holding on to his half and tugging slightly. The card pings open, rips down the centre, and powder puffs between them, clings to Danny's dress shirt and Steve's tee shirt, in Danny's mouth and up Steve's nose. Neither moves; Danny glares at Steve, Steve stares at his half of the card.

"Spoil sport." Danny eventually huffs, throwing his half of the card on the desk and brushing the powder off of him. "So who's it from? I like the fake snow effect – I'll have to show that to Grace, she'll love it." Waits for an answer, but doesn't get one. "Hello? Earth to Steven?" Snaps his fingers loudly and waves a hand to get Steve's attention.

"There's no name." Steve eventually answers. "It doesn't say anything."

"Oh. Oh well." Danny shrugs, no longer having fun now the game of taunt-Steve has ended, "Let's get out of here then."

"We can't." Steve says, his brow furrowing, as Danny heads for the door.

"Why not?" Danny asks, perplexed.

"Did we close the entrance doors before heading back here?" Steve asks, because he can't remember.

"Why?" Danny asks.

"Just answer me, dammit." Steve almost yells, and Danny's recognises _that_ face.

"I, uh, I don't remember." He replies, swallows hard.

"Okay." Steve nods, rubs his forehead as he tries to kick start his brain. "Close the office door."

"What? Why?"

"Danny, just do it." Steve commands, his voice eerily calm, and Danny gets the same shiver down his spine that he gets when Steve's about to do something really dangerous, or someone has a gun pointed at one of the Five-0 members.

"What's going on?" He asks as the door clicks shut.

"We need to call HPD, get bio down here, shut off the air vent system."

"Steve, have you lost your mind?" Danny asks, the joke falling flat as worry laces each word.

"The powder..."

"It was just fake snow."

"What if it wasn't? What if..."

"What if what, Steve?"

"It was something more serious?" Steve pulls his cell phone from his pocket, starts to tap on the glass screen.

"More serious? How serious?" Danny watches as Steve closes his eyes, presses the phone to his ear and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Steve, how serious?!" He repeats, louder, and concerned eyes meet his. "Like Anthrax, or something?" Danny asks, his voice an octave higher, as he realises, without Steve having to answer, that that's exactly what Steve means.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's part 2: Please read and review! Hope you enjoy it! It's twenty minutes to midnight here, and I'm exhausted, but refused to sleep until I posted at least this one chapter up tonight! Next (and final) instalment will be up tomorrow. I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes – I haven't read it through because I'm just too damn tired! ;)**

**Thanks for your support!**

**GB xox**

* * *

**Tell me you love me (& that it's all gonna be alright)**

**Part 2**

"Never, not even in my wildest dreams, did I ever think I would be taking a shower with you." Danny grumbles as he scrubs his skin until it's red and sore.

"I've done stranger things." Steve replies from behind the sheet of plastic hanging between them as he scrubs his body down, too.

"Really? Because for me, this is as weird as it gets. You know this plastic is see through, right?"

"Not even on my top ten." Steve shakes his head, reaches up to rinse the awful smelling shampoo from his hair.

"Well that makes me feel a little better." Danny snorts, turning so that the hot water hits his tense shoulders.

Three, short, loud knocks sound from the closed door, and a voice echoes through.

"Time's almost up, Commander and Detective. We need to get you into isolation."

"You know, maybe it was just a bit of talc. You know, for fake snow." Steve offers conversationally, repeats what Danny had originally suspected, as he shuts his water off.

"Yeah, maybe." Danny says, sarcasm heavy, as he turns his shower off, too. "And maybe I'm the king of Oahu."

Steve laughs at that as he rubs the hard towel over his body to dry off.

"We have to stay positive, Danno."

"That's easy for you to say, Mr SEAL." Pulls the provided clothes from the hook on the far side of the cubicle. "Have you seen this? They're _dresses_!" Holds the item up to the plastic so Steve can see nothing but the unflattering, unisex shape of a hospital gown.

"They've provided scrub pants. Stop complaining." Steve sighs, pulls his own provided clothes on, admits only to himself that he does look pretty ridiculous.

Both men step out of the shower at the same time, look each other up and down, try not to laugh.

"You look stupid." Danny says first, pulling the waistband scrub bottoms up a little higher, because he's too short, or they're too long, or whatever.

"Says you." Steve retorts, grabbing hold of the two toothbrushes – hands one to Danny – and tube of toothpaste left for them.

"This has to be the worst Christmas Eve in history." Danny grumbles as he squeezes far too much toothpaste onto his brush, but continues to scrub at his teeth anyway.

"It'll be okay. We'll just have a few blood tests done, and then be on our way. We'll be out by dinner." Steve shrugs, tries to sound calm and confident, but doesn't miss the way Danny's hand shakes, his pale complexion, the way he rubs at his temple as if he has a headache.

"I'd love to believe you." Danny replies around a mouth of peppermint froth. "But the hazmats waiting for us outside that door make me believe that you are wrong this time, Steven."

"I'm always right." Steve smirks, white froth gathering at the corners of his mouth as he brushes his teeth as hard as he can, because he can see the fear in Danny's eyes and even though his partner is trying to hide it, Steve knows Danny's starting to feel a whole lot worse than he was feeling this morning.

"Yeah, whatever." Danny rolls his eyes as he spits and rinses, then slides his feet into the flimsy disposable slippers provided by the hospital. "You ready?"

"I was born ready." Steve replies, rinsing his own mouth with water and then casting a goofy grin in Danny's direction as he slips his feet into the slippers, because it's his job not to be afraid, not to let on to his partner how serious this situation could be; he's the SEAL, he has a reputation to uphold, and he knows if he lets the façade slip, lets Danny see just how apprehensive he's really feeling, Danny will come undone.

The door opens before either of them touch the handle, and they're faced with an older man dressed in a bright yellow hazmat suit.

"Good Evening, I'm Dr. Ashgrove, I'll be your physician tonight." He greets from behind a plastic shield, holds out a hand gloved in thick plastic.

"Uh, no offence Doc, but I'm not really in the mood for pleasantries." Danny says, not taking the offered hand, because his head is pounding, is pretty sure his sinuses want to burst out of his eyes, that he really needs to just take some tylenol and sleep.

"Yes, yes, of course, understandable." Ashgrove nods, dropping the hand. "Follow me, then, and I'll get you settled in your room."

The three men trudge along plastic covered floors, Steve and Danny trying not to notice the lack of staff on the ward, or the fact that the only remaining people either have large, yellow suits on, or their faces are covered with white masks and hands gloved up. The first door they come to is opened, and Ashgrove ushers both men inside.

Steve's seen a room like this before, back when he was sent on an other classified mission abroad to stop the experimentation of chemical and biological weapons on innocent children and weary elderly. It still catches him by surprise though, can feel the weight of their current predicament as he stares at the large glass box, big enough to fit his entire lounge and kitchen in, kitted out with the latest medical equipment, two hospital beds, a sofa and a small TV. He doesn't miss the nervous glance from Danny, the way he swallows hard, his eyes widen. Steve reaches across discretely, a private motion between the two friends, gives Danny's hand a quick squeeze of reassurance, before letting his hand drop to his side again. The smallest twitch to the corner of Danny's mouth tells Steve he's thankful, and that's all Steve needs to calm his nerves.

A nurse, who's small even by Danny's measures, greets them, her smile hidden behind a thick, white mask but given away by soft, crinkled eyes. They follow her, neither men speaking, through a tall, sliding glass door, and wait before that one closes before walking through another and into the large glass box.

"I feel like a goldfish." Danny mumbles, gets the attention of the doctor and nurse standing with them, earns a soft chuckle from the doctor as he removes the helmet of his hazmat suit and places a mask over his nose and mouth.

"Welcome to our new isolation suite." He gestures to the warmly lit space. "I can appreciate it's not quite the Four Seasons, but we do plan to make your stay with us as comfortable as possible."

"It's...nice." Steve offers, because he's not entirely sure how he's supposed to react to their temporary prison cell.

"Sure is. It's been fitted with the latest light technology, which means we don't have to use potentially dangerous UV lighting, because these overhead lights kill any air born or surface bacteria, viruses, microbes et cetera." Dr Ashgrove explains proudly, but Steve's attention is caught by Danny raising his hand to rub at his forehead, where pressure mounts against skull, as he winces slightly.

"Danno, you okay?" He asks, and the nurse and doctor are immediately leading him to one of the beds.

"I'm fine." He grumbles, but still allows the nurse to guide him into laying back against the raised bed, closes his eyes as he presses at his temples. "Gotta cold, remember?"

"Here." The nurse offers a hand with two, small white pills in it, and a glass of water in the other. "This should help."

"I'm going to arrange for some bloods to be taken, get them into the lab as fast as we can, and then leave you in the perfectly capable hands of Leanne here." The doctor turns to the nurse, talks in a hushed tone. "Start them both on a saline drip, just to keep fluids up, and keep an eye on the detective; it may be more than just a cold he's dealing with."

"Yes doctor." Leanna nods, before heading for the glass sliding doors again.

"As soon as we have the results from the lab, and know what you've ingested, we'll get some more bloods drawn and arrange a treatment plan if one is necessary. I'll try and keep you updated."

"Thank you." Steve says for both him and Danny, as he perches on the edge of the other bed.

"If you need anything at all, or either of you become symptomatic, do not hesitate to press the buzzer to call a member of staff in. Please, under no circumstances, leave this room. If you do, you risk exposing staff members to an unknown contaminant."

"Of course, doctor." Steve nods, remembers watching scared children being locked in a similar room as they died slowly from the results of months of chemical and biological experiments.

"Sure, doc." Danny nods, before leaning back and closing his eyes.

"Okay, I'll see you gentlemen later." The doctor nods, before turning and leaving through the double set of doors. Steve glances over at Danny, sees he's rolled onto his side and curled into a ball.

"Hey, Danno, you feeling okay?" Tries to keep the concern from his voice.

"Yeah, fine. Have a cold, remember?"

"You sure that's all..."

"Yes, Steven. Just need some sleep. So shut up."

"Okay, buddy." Steve says as he settles, rests his head back, refuses to close his eyes, because he has a partner to look out for. Instead, stares at the white tiles beyond the glass ceiling, and mentally takes apart and puts back together his entire gun collection.

* * *

Steve loses count of the minutes as they turn into hours. Instead, he measures the amount of time by the number of snores that vibrate through his sleeping partner. He hasn't seen the doctor since they've been admitted, and has seen Leanne only twice; thirty minutes after she'd first left the room, she'd returned with two drip stands, two bags of saline and two sets of cannula's and a phlebotomy kit. The second time was forty two snores after, when she'd brought Steve a hot cup of coffee, and a thermometer, hot lemon water and two more pills for Danny. It doesn't take Steve long to figure out that he isn't the only one concerned.

Danny wakes as he's thrust into a coughing fit, and he winces as each breath rattles deep inside his chest. Steve jolts upright, is ready to call for a nurse, but it passes quickly, and Danny falls back against the pillows, completely spent.

"Danno? You awake?" Steve asks gently, barely notices the nod in response. Waits for Danny to start the conversation, and despite the fact he feels like death warmed up, it doesn't take long before he has something to say.

"You know what I hate about hospitals?" His coarse voice rants. "The sheets. They always smell so starchy. It doesn't make me feel better, it makes me feel _worse_!"

Steve laughs a little, is glad his partner is still capable of airing his distaste.

"Maybe next time we're admitted, I'll call ahead and ask them to change the laundry detergent." Steve offers as a joke, and Danny pushes himself to sit up a little more, focuses tired eyes on Steve.

"We're here often enough. We should have our own private suite with scatter cushions and drapes with personalised tie-backs."

Steve doesn't laugh, because he's too distracted by the ashen skin tone, the purple bags under bloodshot, half closed eyes, the dry, chapped lips. "What? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, I just..." Steve says, looks away from his sick partner and tries not to think the worst. "I have a headache, tis all."

"You too, huh? My brain feels like it's trying to leak out of my nose and ears."

"You look as pretty as ever, Princess." Steve smiles, doesn't feel that relieved when Danny only offers a small one in return.

"So, who's the ex girlfriend you've pissed off enough to try and kill us all?" Danny asks as he reaches for a glass of water, grimaces as his joints stiffen and muscles ache.

"Who says it's an ex?" Steve replies defiantly, folds his arms across his chest.

"Oh it was all over your face." Danny says after cold water slides down his dry throat, offering a brief lubricant. "So, c'mon, who was she?"

"We dated whilst I was in high school, just before Dad sent us off to the mainland." Steve answers honestly, shrugs one shoulder. "It lasted barely six months. We were just kids."

"Wow, that flame's been burning a long while. A_ really _long while." Danny laughs gently, eliciting another coughing fit. Steve waits until it's calmed before he replies, wonders if he should call the nurse in.

"She sends a card every year. She used to send them to Dad, but he never sent them on. I found a box of them after he died. I guess once she learned that I was back in Oahu, she started sending them again."

"Looks like she got fed up of waiting for a reply, Steven. I really do wish you'd keep your socio paths in the past. Ya know, where they can't do any damage."

"You make it sound like I make this a habit, Danno."

"If you can call cheating death on a daily basis a habit, then I absolutely do declare you an addict." Danny nods, rubs at his temples again. "Any news from Chin or Kono?"

"Nothing." Steve sighs. "It's only been a few hours. We know how these things play out; they take time."

"No news is good news, right?" Danny says, tries to sound optimistic but it falls flat.

"Right." Steve affirms. "You look like you need some sleep. Get some shut eye, I'll wake you if I hear anything."

Danny seems to consider that for a moment, before nodding and sliding further down the bed.

"Okay." He says, rolling on to his side, his voice heavy with exhaustion. Sighs 'good night'.

"Night, Danno." Steve whispers back, and it's not long before he's back to counting snores.

* * *

Leanne enters through the sliding doors a hundred and twelve snores later; long enough for Danny to fall back into a deep, fitful sleep. She only offers a polite nod as a greeting to Steve, before busying herself around Danny's bed; recording the sats illuminated on the computer monitor, checking the almost empty saline bag hanging on the drip stand, inserting a thermometer into his ear. She tuts softly, mutters something under her breath that Steve can't hear, before pulling the sheets away from Danny's shivering body.

"Is he okay?" Steve asks, his own thumping headache forgotten.

"The Detective is showing signs of influenza." Leanne replies honestly. "We need to keep the bedsheets off of him, try and get his body temperature back down."

"But it was barely a cold this morning." Steve says, his concern piquing.

"Flu can present itself as a cold for a couple of days, before it really takes hold of the human body. Try not to worry too much, we have no reason to believe it's a cause for concern, or that it's related to the ingestion of the powder."

"He's going to be okay, right? He has to be okay."

"How are you feeling, Commander?" Leanne asks Steve instead of offering an answer.

"I'm fine." Steve says too quickly. "I ache a little, but otherwise okay." He extends when Leanne raises an eyebrow, puts Danny's chart back in it's holder and steps over to read Steve's instead.

"You haven't had any obs. done for a while." She notes, before resting two fingers on the underside of Steve's wrist. He watches her for a moment, her eyes staying focused on her fingers on his skin, and he wonders what her nose is like – narrow and sharp or a small button nose – and then wonders about the mouth, the lips, below the mask. Wonders if she wears lip stick or chapstick like Cath used to, if they stay bare.

"Heart rate is fine." Leanne says, breaking Steve's thoughts, as she lets go of his arm and pulls the thermometer from her pocket. "May I?" Points to Steve's ear. He tilts his head, allows her to gently insert the plastic just deep enough to get a reading. "Your temperature is a little high." She reports after the 30 second beep.

"I feel fine." Steve says. "What time is it?" Leanne looks at her watch, eyes widen a little.

"It's a little after 10. If you are feeling up to it, you have a couple of visitors."

"Of course." Steve nods, because he knows who it is without needing an introduction.

"They can't come in here, understandably, but I'll turn on the microphone, so you can talk to them if you stand over by the speaker there." The nurse points to a small speaker system near the entrance.

"Thank you." Steve says, swinging his legs out of bed probably a little too fast, because they ache badly.

"I'll send them in." Leanne says gently, before checking Danny one more time, and then heading out of the isolation unit.

Steve's pounding head and throbbing limbs are forgotten as soon as he sets eyes on the cousins walking towards him.

"Hey Boss." Kono smiles, looks tired, when they reach the glass wall.

"How are you feeling?" Chin asks, rest his hands on his hips as his eyes flick to Danny's sleeping form in the background and back to Steve.

"I'm good. Danny not so much." Steve answers honestly. "It sure is good to see you guys. What do you know?"

"You were right to be extra cautious, boss." Kono begins. "We didn't want to wait for the official results to come in, so we called Charlie into the lab, had him run his own tests on a sample of the powder."

"Good call." Steve praises, because even though she's been with them since the beginning, has never left any reason for doubt about her ability to work for FIVE-0, Kono is, and always will be, the rookie seeking approval even when she doesn't need it.

"We came as soon as he got the results." Chin continues. "The tests came back as positive for Bacillus Anthracis; Anthrax."

"Who ever wanted to poison you must have hand delivered the card straight to the mail room, because all of our mail is automatically radiated to prevent situations like this." Kono adds.

"We've already questioned Robert, and he says that he didn't come into work until late today, and CCTV confirms that. We do have one suspect; a woman, around 5ft 6, but that's all we can get from the images. Whoever she is, she's clever enough to avoid the camera's. There's isn't a clear enough shot for facial rec." Chin holds up the tablet he's brought with him, shows Steve a blurry, barely legible snapshot. But Steve doesn't need a high definition image, because even after all of these years, he can remember that straight edged nose, the large freckle underneath the right eye, even if it does just look like a black, squared smudge.

"Her name is Rebecca Maye. We dated for a few months years ago. She sends a card every Christmas, but I normally just toss them in the trash."

"Hate to ask you this, Steve, but have you been in contact with her? Done anything to provoke a reaction?" Chin asks, shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

"No, I haven't spoken to her since I was about fifteen. I did a quick check on her a few years ago when I got the first card since returning to Hawaii; she's a repeat offender – DUI's, drug dealing, harassment. You need to run her name through the system."

"We will." Chin nods, and Kono offers a smile.

"At least now we know it's anthrax, we can treat you guys, right? Isn't there a drug for that?" She says, the hope evident in her voice, the naivety just as clear.

"We all got the vaccine last year, just after our last scare." Steve nods. "We'll be fine after some antibiotics. Me and Danny will be out of here before you know it."

"He doesn't look so good, Brah." Chin says, and Steve shakes his head.

"He's not..."

"Oh my god! Steve, he's seizing!" Kono exclaims, slamming her hands on the glass. Steve spins around, needs a second for the room to catch up with him, pushes back the nausea as his eyes focus on a shaking Danny.

"Shit." He snaps, rushing as fast as his legs will carry him to Danny's side, allows the surge of adrenaline to clear his hazy brain and kick him into action. Slams the emergency button as hard as he can whilst trying to steady Danny so he doesn't jerk off of the bed.

"Do you need help?" Chin offers, his voice tight and edgy, as he makes a move towards the glass doors.

"No! Stay out there, we can't risk infecting you. Go and get the bitch responsible for this!" Steve orders, grits his teeth as solid muscle fights beneath him. Chin and Kono nod once, don't need telling twice, because whilst they can't help with Danny in there, they can help by arresting the psycho responsible and locking her up until Steve can take a crack at her himself. They turn and rush out of the main doors, as doctors and nurses rush in.

* * *

Steve watches as, an hour later, the doctors and nurses slowly filter out of the isolation room. He gets up from his own bed, where he was forced to stay seated to avoid getting in the way as the medical staff fought to save Danny's life, and moves swiftly to Danny's side, gingerly takes his hand in his own as he pulls the hard stool a nurse had left close enough to the bed side. Danny's face is ashen, his lips tinted blue, eyelids translucent enough to see each individual vein. His skin is hot to the touch, a sheen of sweat glistens, and the only sign of life is the rise and fall of his chest. Steve traces his eyes from the tube parting Danny's lips, down to the ventilator forcing air into his partners chest, and wonders how he can go from having a basic, common cold, to being here, fighting for his life.

"What's happening, Doctor?" He finally asks of the doctor jotting down the recordings on the monitor in Danny's chart. The doctor – Doctor Nadine – nods softly before trying to explain in the easiest manner.

"Thanks to your friends at Five-0, we know that Detective Williams has ingested an unknown quantity of anthrax powder. Now we're unsure on how much he's actually inhaled, or swallowed, or absorbed through contact with the skin, so we can't actually anticipate a reaction. Normally, with anthrax poisoning, it takes a few days for the patient to become sick enough to require medical intervention such as ventilation, but because Detective Williams..."

"Danny. Please, call him Danny." Steve interrupts.

"Because _Danny_ already had a compromised immune system – blood test results confirm that he's suffering with a common cold virus – the anthrax has managed to take advantage of that and has, in effect, sped up the infection process."

"Is he going to be okay?" Steve asks, even when he knows he shouldn't, as he squeezes Danny's hand gently.

"We've sedated him for the time being and we're giving him some medication to prevent the seizures and to try and bring his body temperature back down to within the normal limit. We'll keep him on the ventilation machine until he starts showing signs of improvement,_ if_ he starts to show signs. We're also just about to start him on a course of antibiotics, but we're unsure on how he's going to react. He's already sped the process up from a few days to a few hours. The one thing he does have going in his favour, is the fact he had an anthrax vaccination not too long ago, so fingers crossed, once the antibiotics kick in, we'll get the infection under control."

"Thank you." Steve croaks, the tears gathering thick and hot in the back of his throat as exhaustion, worry and fear begin to creep up on him.

"We'll need to start you on the same antibiotics, I'm afraid Commander. Just as a precautionary measure." The doctor finishes, and Steve nods, allows his eyes to fall onto the still form of his best friend as the doctor puts the chart back and heads out of the unit.

"C'mon, Danno." Steve whispers once he's alone with Danny. "You need to pull through this. Gracie needs you. I need you. Hell, FIVE-0 needs you." He waits for a response, a sign that his partner has heard him. Isn't surprised when he gets none. "I love you, man. It's all gonna be okay, I promise."

Steve rests his head on the side of the bed, drifts off into an uneasy sleep as he holds onto his partners clammy hand, refuses to move when the nurse arrives twenty minutes later with a bag on antibiotic solution to attach to his IV line, because Steve's got a man down, and it's his job to make sure no man gets left behind.

TBC.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Here's the third and final instalment. I have to say it was hard to keep this down to three chapters, but I vowed to myself that any prompts would only be one-shots, so this one is special in that it was a 3 parter as is. **

**Please read and review! **

**PS: In reply to the review left by a guest, any similarities between my story and any other story and/or tv show is completely coincidental. I do not plagiarise. If you wish to know how this story came to me, please leave a comment and I'll post another chapter with all the details. (I'm not at all offended, I'm just offering! (: )**

**Anyway, **

**Onwards and upwards. **

**GB xox**

**Tell me you love me (& that it's all gonna be alright)**

**Part 3**

Steve doesn't move from Danny's side for a long time – long enough to make his back twinge and each of his limbs to throb in unison. The sound of the doors to the isolation unit makes Steve jump awake, and he almost falls from the stool he's been balancing on artfully. The doctor – one Steve's never met before – smiles softly, doesn't hide behind a mask, isn't gloved up, and that can only be a good sign, Steve decides.

"Good morning, Commander." The doctor greets placing a large, white paper bag on the end table, as Steve rubs at his eyes, stands to stretch his legs. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm good." Steve nods, because any time spent speaking about him, is time their attention is deflected from Danny.

"That's good." The doctor nods, looks down at the ipad in his hand, before looking back up at Steve. "Well, I've come with good news. The official reports that have come to us match those that your team offered us yesterday. You had your blood drawn in the early hours of the morning?"

"Yes." Steve nods, because even though he has no recollection of time, he remembers the nurse waking him to prick his veins a short while ago.

"Okay, yeah, the results have come back." The doctor nods as he swipes fingers over the small computer screen. "It looks like you've been lucky enough to avoid serious infection. It says in your notes that you've recently been vaccinated?"

"Yeah, last year we had a scare at HPD. As far as I'm aware, every cop on the island had to get one; Governor's orders."

"And you've no symptoms?" The doctor looks up at Steve, his green eyes intense as if trying to read Steve's soul. He shifts a little uncomfortably, ignores the pounding in his temples.

"None, I feel fine."

"Okay, well then I'm comfortable discharging you today. As long as you promise to take these antibiotics. The infection should be taken care of before it can take hold."

"I will." Steve nods, reaching for the paper bag.

"If you become symptomatic at all over the next few days, you're to come straight back to hospital, am I clear?"

"Of course." He nods again, sure he can feel his brain shaking in his skull. "What about Danny?"

"We'll be shortly moving Mr Williams up to the ICU, where they are better equipped to look after him. Fortunately, isolation is no longer needed, as there's no risk of the infection spreading."

"And his test results? Is he getting better?"

"The infection levels have dropped a small amount, but it's still very early days. We're expecting it to take at least three days before we start to see a real improvement." Steve nods, because that's still better news than he was expecting. "Once we get him settled into ICU, the plan is to start him on antiviral medication alongside the antibiotics, just to try and give his immune system a little rest, so it's not working so hard. He looks sicker than he is, just because his body is having to fight two illnesses at the same time."

"Thank you, Doctor." Steve says, swallows hard, his throat dry and sore.

"Your team members are waiting outside the room, shall I send them in?" The doctor asks before leaving.

"Of course." He answers, because he can't imagine why he'd ever refuse them access. "Oh, doctor, when I can I leave? I have a job to do."

"I really do advise you take it easy, Commander. Your body needs to rest and heal." The doctor warns raises and eyebrow. "But you can leave as soon as the paperwork has been filed."

"Can I appoint someone to do that for me? The paperwork, that is? I'd really just like to get home, get some decent sleep." Steve lies easily.

"Of course, just let the ward sister know before you leave." The doctor says, opening the sliding doors, and pressing the button that locks them so they can't close again. Steve's sure the air that rushes in tastes cleaner, slowly shuffles over to his own bed, ignores the twinge in his neck, as he slips his feet into the only shoes he has; the disposable slippers.

He looks up as Chin and Kono rush in, the relief on their faces evident until they take their eyes from Steve and turn them to Danny.

"Hey Boss. Nice digs." Kono jokes, smiles awkwardly. "How you feeling?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Steve says for what feels like the hundredth time. "Kono, I need to ask a favour of you."

"Sure, what's up?" She nods enthusiastically, ever eager to help.

"I need you to stay here with Danny, fill out my paperwork, whilst I go back to the office." Steve says, as he tries to stand, moves to quickly and almost falls back on to the bed. Chin reaches out to steady him, but Steve isn't about to let anything keep him from doing his job.

"Maybe you just need to go home and rest, Steve. We've arrested Maye – we can handle this one." Chin suggests, but knows that the fire in Steve's eyes is not going to extinguish easily.

"No, I need to see her, ask her why myself." Steve shakes his head, determination pulsing through his body.

"Go and do what you need to do." Kono nods, and Steve doesn't miss the look exchanged between the cousins. "I've got this."

"Thanks, Kono." He says, touches her arm briefly before forcing his legs to work, to carry him towards the door. "Come on Chin. I need a ride." Chin sighs, defeated – knows which fights to pick and this isn't one of them.

"Okay. We'll swing by your place first, get you a change of clothes." Because, even though he's sure that Steve has worked in clothes much worse than cotton scrub pants and scratchy hospital gowns, he doesn't like seeing the constant reminder that Steve should be resting, not working.

"I have a chance of clothes back at HQ." Steve says, almost as an order, and Chin doesn't argue, follows the stubborn team leader in silence, instead.

Steve stands, leant against the cold, brick wall, using it as a prop because he's not sure if he has the energy to hold himself up any more. The woman before him bares no resemblance to the girl he used to know, wonders where in life she'd gotten lost, if he was partly responsible. Her blue eyes that were once bright and full of mischief are now dull and almost lifeless, dart around the room, wide with fear. The bouncy brunette curls that Steve used to love so much fall flat and her limp hair clings to clammy skin – skin that used to be clear and dewy but is now ashen and sports a few infected spots. As she shifts nervously, pulls against the wrist restraints, Steve is shocked to see skin so translucent he's sure her bones are visible, and she's lost so much weight since he last saw her, he barely recognises her.

"Rebecca." Steve says softly, tired, because they've been at this routine for the past hour, and it's draining him emotionally and physically. And whilst he would love to rip shreds into her for harming his partner, intimidate and shout and release his frustrations as he paces the room, something stops him; empathy.

Terrified eyes flick to him, and then just as quickly away again, as her tongue dances out of mouth to lick dry lips.

"Don't talk. Hush hush." She barely whispers as she shakes her head in short, jerky movements.

"Where did you get the Anthrax from?" Steve asks, again, pinches the bridge of his nose as his sinuses begin to join in on the throbbing party taking over his body. Wishes Chin had warned him that Maye was all nine kinds of crazy.

"Shh. Secrets." She says again, her voice squeaking slightly, before biting her lip so hard she draws blood.

"Rebecca...Becky...can I call you Becky?" He asks, rocking off of the wall, approaching the shackled woman, doesn't wait for an answer as he continues. "Who was the card for?" Crouches down in front of her as pressure builds in his skull.

"Ding dong the witch is dead." She sings absently, as she stares at the far wall, seeing something that nobody else can. "Ding dong. Ding dong."

Steve sighs, runs a hand over his face and up into his hair, wonders how long he's supposed to go at this for, if there's even any point.

"Becky, look at me." He gently coaxes, tries to use the same tone he uses with Grace, even if his patience is running on empty. Big, wide eyes eventually look down at Steve, or through Steve – he isn't sure which – but he takes the opportunity whilst it's there. "Where did you get the powder from?" Rebecca's head tilts slightly, lips twitch upwards.

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow." She sings softly, almost in a child like manner.

"Yeah, snow." Steve sighs, recalls Danny calling it the same so many hours ago, and decides to give up, because this is pointless and whilst he knows that Maye is going to be locked up in a psychiatric unit for the rest of her life, if Steve has anything to do with it, he feels a little disappointed and underwhelmed that this couldn't be a little bit more of an interrogation.

"He says you like snow." She whispers, as if sharing her biggest secret, and Steve almost stops breathing, scared of making a sudden movement in case it scares her into being quiet again. "Did you like your snow?"

"Yes. Yes I did." He nods slowly, starts to feel optimistic because it's the most information she's offered up since being arrested, even if it doesn't make much sense to anyone else.

"I like snow." She smiles, looks up at the ceiling as if watching snowflakes fall, starts to sing again. "Let it snow, let it snow, let is snow."

"Where can I get some snow, Becky?" Steve asks eagerly.

"Shhh. Secrets and Lies. Ding dong the witch is dead."

"You can tell me. I'll keep your secrets." Steve insists, swallows hard against his dry throat, edges a little closer to her, tries to hide the desperation for information, the need to spring into action.

"Row, row, row your boat." She sings, rocking on the chair, the cuffs rattling loudly.

"On a boat?" Steve tries decipher. "Is the snow on a boat?"

"Shhh." She smiles. "It's a secret."

"Thank you." Steve sighs, relieved, places a hand on her knee as reassurance, doesn't expect her reaction to his touch; she screams, loud enough for Steve to clamp his hands over hear ears, doesn't stop even when her lips turn blue, thrashes in the chair, pulls on her restraints. Steve stands back, isn't sure what to do. The more he tries to calm her, the more she screams and Steve's sure his head is going to explode.

Chin appears quickly, pulls Steve from the room, and slams the door closed, instantly silencing their captive.

"Sorry, I should have warned you about that." Chin apologises, looks a little sheepish.

"That's not the only thing you should have warned me about; she's bat crap crazy." Steve says, squeezes his eyes closed to try and rid the grey spots crossing his vision, recognises them as a threat of an approaching migraine.

"You should be grateful you weren't there when we arrested her. She didn't stop screaming for the whole journey, even managed to bite Kono on the hand."

"She didn't say anything earlier..."

"Oh it was nothing serious, didn't even break the skin. It was more of a warning nip." Chin explains. "Did you manage to get anything out of her?"

"She kept on about a boat, figure it's worth checking out." Steve says, rubs at his temples.

"That backs up what I came down to tell you." Chin nods, hands a printout to Steve. "I've had HPD running backgrounds on Rebecca and any known associates. Turns out she's been linked to this guy, Ryan Holiway. He's wanted worldwide for stealing a large quantity of pathogens from the lab he worked in in Germany, but is a slippery guy, has been almost impossible to catch. But duke called me about ten minutes ago, apparently a yacht docked in Ala Wai habor the day before yesterday and hasn't paid. Nobody has seen anyone aboard the boat and several people have complained about an odd smell. We've acted on a lot less."

"Okay, call Grover and tell him to pick up Kono and meet us down there. First, I need to find some advil." Steve commands, swallows against the wave of nausea.

"You okay? Wanna head back to Queens?" Chin asks, although he already knows the answer.

"Nah, it's just Danny's cold making it's rounds and a bit of sleep deprivation. I'll be fine." Steve insists, heading for the upper level.

"Alright then." Chin sighs in defeat once more, before following after his team leader.

Steve stands in front of the Swat team, Chin on his six, Kono behind Chin, fingers poised above the trigger, itching to jump to action. They edge along the docks, keep low, use the bows of boats as cover as they hone in on their target – the only new yacht to the area. The mid day sun beats down on Steve's back, sweat runs down his neck, he blinks several times to see past the grey spots interfering with his vision.

They stop, and Steve signals to Grover to approach the left whilst he and his team go for the right, and then they're moving again, feet landing silently on old wood as they edge closer. Steve holds one hand up, halts Chin and Kono, slowly straightens to peer over the edge of the boat, sees nobody but Grover doing the same on the other side. Steve signals for the SWAT team to board the boat, and even though Grover is taller than Steve and is built for comfort more than speed, he jumps aboard with grace and lands almost silently on his feet, the five SWAT members close behind. Steve, Chin and Kono copy as soon as Grover signals that it's clear.

"We'll take up, you take down." Grover whispers so quietly Steve can barely hear him. But he does, so he nods, wipes the sweat from his brow as he convoys his team down the narrow, wooden steps, his gun drawn and leading the way.

Steve signals for Chin to take the left side, Kono the right, and he takes the three room ahead of them. The separate, moving silently, pushing doors open and disappearing into separate rooms as they search for something, anything, that can link the yacht to the Anthrax attack. All of the room are empty, with no signs of being lived in, and Steve lets Grover know over the comms as Chin and Kono join him in the hallway, their guns lowered.

"All clear down here." He whispers softly, and the three FIVE-0 members wait with baited breath for an update from their back-up.

"All clear up here, but I've got something you might want to see." Grover eventually says into their ears, his voice low and grave. They don't hesitate, and Chin leads the way, with Kono and Steve behind, as they hurry to join Grover two levels up. Steve swallows again, his throat drying out quicker than before, and he tries to remember the last time he had a drink, tries to fight the dizziness as he forces one foot in front of the other, using Kono's back as his anchor to reality.

"You okay, Boss?" Kono asks, keeping her voice low so no one else can overhear, when she notices Steve's lagging behind.

"Yeah, just the meds the doc gave me, I think." He answers, wonders if he should have read the side effects leaflet the doctor had provided. "I'll be okay, just need a drink." He assures, pushing off of the wall he'd stopped to steady himself with, and heading after Chin.

"Okay, if you're sure." Kono nods, trusting Steve's judgement, because he's almost never wrong.

They head to the back of the yacht, where two SWAT men are standing with guns lowered, waiting for their arrival. They push through two sheets of thick, hanging plastic, can't believe they're seeing the scene before them; tables with bottles of chemicals, test tubes, portable gas stoves and jars of cloudy yellow liquid line the left side. Desks with microscopes, labelled boxes and papers line the right side.

Grover stands in the middle of the room, next to a dead body, and when Steve approaches it, he recognises the man as Ryan Holiway.

"Oh my god." Kono breathes from behind them, and Steve spins, too quickly, and is just as shocked as everyone else; there are two large, dog crates stacked on top of each other, one with the body of an elderly woman in, the other empty except a pair of discarded handcuffs. Steve recognises the second body instantly by the large wart on her chin, the ugly, pink birthmark covered most of the left hand; Rebecca's mother.

"Ding dong the witch is dead." He says to himself, finally understanding.

"I'm guessing he was in the process of making a dirty bomb." Grover addresses the room, points out the equipment with the nuzzle of the gun.

"Would make sense." Chin agrees. "I'm guessing he needed to test the Anthrax, make sure it was deadly enough for the job. Used Rebecca as a way to get to Five-0, took her mother to use as blackmail."

"It's hot in here." Steve concludes, tries to ignore the sweat trickling down his back, slipping under the waistband of his pants. Starts to feel faint. Really needs a drink. "We should clear out until we know it's safe to be in here." He says, tries to clear his throat, hopes to get rid of the tickle, begins to cough. He ignores the concerned glances of everyone as he tries to catch his breath, winces as his head throbs painfully with every lung-rattling hack.

"You heard the guy, everyone out." Grover booms, and Steve's sure his voice is getting further away, tries to focus on the floor, but it's moving, heading closer to him as he struggles for breath. Feels something firm tighten around his back, clutching at his side, as his eyes roll up into his head. The last thing he hears is Grovers deep, commanding voice ordering someone, _anyone_, to call 911.

He's not aware of much, just that his chest aches with every breath he takes, and his head, although isn't painful, feels heavy and there's a thick fog clouding his brain. It takes a while before he can piece together coherent thoughts, make sense of where he is, what's happening. He can breathe, and that's good in itself, he decides, because that means he didn't die. His arms and legs, although still and not in use, ache and feel like they're filled with lead, but after a quick experiment, he realises he can flex his fingers, wiggle his toes. It takes more energy than it should, wears him out, but he's alive, and for now, that's enough. Allows himself to drift back into nothingness.

The second time he wakes, it's a less than pleasant experience. His chest feels like it's being crushed by a ton of cement, his head is throbbing so hard it feels as if his brain is ramming against skull, his body aches so bad, it feels as if the muscles are cramping and about to snap. Even his ear hurt. He tries to groan, move, anything, but he's still, can't move, and then it all becomes too much as the darkness grabs hold of him and forces him back under.

The third time is easier, and he's becomes alert much faster. There's a warm hand clasping his own, gives a gentle squeeze every minute or so, and although his body doesn't exactly hurt this time, it feels a little achy, kind of like he's recovering from Flu. He tries to remember what got him here. Recalls the Christmas card, the puff of powder, being shoved in a fish tank for observation. Remembers he wasn't alone.

"'eeee." He tries to speak, but his throat is dry and scratchy, just makes garbled sounds. "'teeeee." He tries again, and he knows that if his friend was here, he'd understand. But it's not Steve's hand holding his own, isn't Steve's voice that answers, trying to coax him to the surface.

"Danny?" Kono's soft voice coos. "Danny, can you hear me? I'm calling a nurse in."

"St'eee." He tries, attempts to lift his heavy lids, closes them instantly as blinding light burns his eyes. Waits another couple of seconds and tries again, blinks several times, allows himself to adjust. Directs his eyes to the smiling, bronzed face besides him.

"Hey big guy. How you feeling?" She asks gently, and he feels her other hand rub his arm encouragingly.

"'m'good." He forces out, winces as his voice reverberates through his head. "Wh'r 'tve?"

"That's not important right now, Danny." Kono says, looks up as the doctor walks through the door.

"K'no. Wher's Steve?" He forces, his voice cracking, but determination pushes through.

"I'm sorry Danny..." Kono shakes her head, eyes water. "We didn't know he was sick..."

"No..." Danny starts, fear and dread twisting knots in his stomach, forces bile to crawl up his throat. "No. No."

"Danny, please, calm down." Kono begs as the doctor silences the rapidly beeping machine, pulls a sedative from his pocket as Danny begins to thrash, trying to sit up. "Danny, please."

"No. Steve." He cries, forgets any pain or sluggish limbs as he thrashes around, tries to get up. Kono's warm hands press down on his shoulders, pinning him to the bed. "Steve!" He cries louder, before warmth spreads from the crook of his arm, through his body, and he's forced back into peaceful darkness.

When Danny finally stirs again, he wishes the darkness would take him back under. Almost as soon as he is aware, he's able to put two coherent thoughts together; Anthrax poisoning. Steve's dead. An invisible wave of grief hits him, knocks the air out of his chest, and he sobs loudly.

"Danny?"

He tries to ignore the cool, calm voice he recognises as one of his best friends, his colleagues, doesn't think he can face Chin just now.

"Danny, come on Brah, wake up." Chin coaxes, and Danny whimpers, because as much as he'd like to wake up, go home, get back to life, he can't because Steve isn't here, and without Steve, Danny isn't sure what he's supposed to do.

He squeezes his eyes closed tighter, refuses to give in to consciousness, waits for the darkness to take him again. He hears the door open, recognises that it's not a sliding door but a normal push door, realises that means he's not in isolation any more. Another wave of grief as he remembers that Steve was sharing the fish tank with him, and Steve's not here any more.

He knows the sound of those feet, small and delicate, yet booted to pack more punch when she needs to kick into action. He can't place the sound of the squeaking accompanying her though, isn't sure he should even care.

"How is he?" Kono asks Chin, and Danny raises a heavy arm, places a hand over his eyes, refusing to open them.

"He's conscious, but I don't think he's aware yet. He hasn't responded to me."

"He doesn't look as pale." She says, sounds closer, and the squeaking stops as a hand reaches for his and squeezes hard.

"Open your eyes, you stubborn SOB." A male voice commands, and Danny stops breathing, his heart skips a few beats, because either he's finally died or he's losing his mind. "C'mon Danno." It's weak, that's for sure, sounds scratchy and different, but Danny would recognise that voice from anywhere.

"St've?"

"Yeah, babe. Open your eyes."

"'m I dead?"

"Not yet, tiger." He's sure Steve is laughing at him.

"Must be crazy." Squeezes his eyes so tight he sees blobs of colour in the darkness.

"All nine kinds." Steve agrees, and that annoys Danny a little.

"You laughing at me?"

"I will be if you don't open those baby blues for me." Steve says quietly. "You slept through Christmas, you can't sleep through the New Year, too." Danny ponders that, figures Steve has a point. Slowly, carefully, opens his eyes, blinks against the bright lights, and then glances around him as his vision adjusts. Chin and Kono stand side by side at the foot of his bed, and then his eyes fall down, onto Steve's pale and clammy face.

"You're alive." Danny sighs with relief, forces a smile onto his dry, cracked lips.

"Of course I am."

"Thought you were dead."

"I just forget to take my meds and got a little dehydrated."

"Even anthrax can't stop Superman, huh?" Danny jokes.

"You look like crap." Steve laughs, and Danny closes his eyes again, already exhausted.

"Yeah, you too." Danny forces his mouth to smile, is sure his lips crack and split, but he doesn't care, because Steve's _here_, Steve's _alive_. "'nd St've?" Mumbled sleepily.

"Yeah Danno?"

"Love you."

"Yeah, love you to, buddy." Steve breathes, and squeezes his partners hand.


End file.
